Some Wounds Never Heal - A RF4 Fanfic - Part 3
by lallyo
Summary: Frey realizes that she doesn't have to deal with loss all by herself as she goes on a trip around town to return Dylas' borrowed jacket.


"Ah, my love, you look so cute!" Arthur exclaimed as he gazed upon Frey, who was wearing a soft cotton dress and pretty purple bows in her hair, which billowed behind her in the wind. Frey had never been on an airship before, at least not as far as she could remember, and she was absolutely terrified; but the feeling of Arthur's warm arms around her made all of her fear melt away.

She could feel her cheeks blush at his words, and buried her face in his chest. With a chuckle, he put a hand under Frey's chin and lifted her face to meet his.

There had been two firsts that day.

Arthur leaned down and kissed Frey tenderly on the forehead, then on the nose, then finally on the lips. His lips tasted like sweet summer fruits and felt like the ocean breeze, and when she looked up into his eyes to see two ruby gems gazing back at her.

When he died, his eyes looked dull and frosted.

XXXXXXXXXX

"I found her!"

Frey awoke to the sound of a male voice. Her wolf lifted his head and let loose a deep growl in his throat, curling himself around her protectively. "Ah... whoa, there," the voice said from the doorway. She couldn't see well, what with the dimness of the barn and the bright sunlight outside, but Frey could tell from the timid voice that it was Vishnal. "It's alright," Frey whispered into the wolf's fur, to which he immediately relaxed. Frey stood to face Vishnal, clenching her sore side. The young butler made his way over to her and let her lean on his shoulder as they exited the barn.

The sun outside nearly blinded Frey's tired eyes, but she could still make out the figures of Forte and Volkanon running toward her. They both looked utterly pissed off. "You were supposed to stay in your room!" Volkanon bellowed, grabbing the princess by her shoulders. "We had no idea where you went. We thought-" he stopped as he noticed tears streaming down Frey's cheeks and pulled her into his arms. Forte and Vishnal stood to the side, no doubt watching in awe as the normally-formal butler let the princess cry into his chest. "I miss him so much," she whimpered as Volkanon stroked her tangled hair, which had pieces of wolf fur and hay in it from sleeping in the barn.

"I know," he whispered, squeezing her shoulder. Together they headed back to her bedchamber, where a hot bath was drawn and a sleepy Clorica waited.

As Clorica helped Frey bathe, she couldn't help but feel like a real basket case. Just a few days prior, Frey had been capable of taking on the world. But now... now she couldn't even bathe herself. Clorica was never one to judge, but even now she felt like she was judging her.

When her bath was finished, her hair combed and her bandages changed, Frey took the initiative to dress herself. She threw on a comfortable cotton dress that didn't irritate her side and managed to pull on a pair of soft socks as well as her boots, despite the pain of bending over to do so. She decided to leave her hair down, and figured it was warm enough today to go without a sweater.

Just as she was about to leave the room, a black mass caught her eye on the chair in the corner. Oh, right. Dylas had let her borrow his jacket a few days ago, and it still sat in her room. If she did anything today, she would at least find him and give him back his jacket. Grabbing the jacket, she exited the castle and slowly made her way across the square toward the east side of town, where she could then head up toward Porcoline's restaurant.

"Hey there, princess."

A familiar voice softly called to her as she walked, and she didn't bother to stop. "Hello, Leon." The dragon priest, who was normally mischievous and teasing, was rather quiet as he walked next to Frey. "Hey, listen-" he began, but was cut off by Frey, who kept walking as she spoke. "If you're going to apologize, or say you're sorry for my loss, you can piss off," she muttered. Leon stopped for a moment, looking utterly shocked, then caught up with her again. "Actually, no. I was just going to say... Well, I don't think you're a child. Whatever you need to do to make this right, I'll be here to support you."

Frey stopped in her tracks and glared at Leon. They had never been particularly friendly with one another; he was far too teasing for her tastes, and his eyes wandered far too often. "Are you just saying that to make yourself feel better?" she snapped, to which Leon's mouth fell open in surprise. She kept walking again, ignoring his calls after her, and made her way to Porcoline's restaurant.

XXXXXXXXXX

As usual, the restaurant was bustling at this time of day. Frey entered and expected Dylas to be frantically waiting tables, but when she entered she only saw Porcoline and Margaret working. Not much wanting to deal with Porco's antics at the moment, Frey decided to stride up to Margaret, who had a heavy-looking tray full of food in each hand. "Have you seen Dylas?"

Frey practically had to shout over the din of the restaurant. Margaret mouthed "I can't hear you" and delivered food to hungry customers. While Frey waited, she did her best not to even look in the general direction of Arthur's office. She just wanted to return Dylas' coat and leave. Why she thought coming here would be a good idea was beyond her. Once Margaret had delivered all of the food, she grabbed Frey's hand and led her to the store room. Once there, she wrapped the princess in a big hug and bent to meet her gaze; Margaret was an elf, after all, and was quite tall. Frey stood stiff as Margaret looked at her. "I just want you to know, I'm here for you if you need anything," the elf said in a sing-song voice. Frey looked down at her feet and shifted uncomfortably. "I just need to find Dylas," she said, holding up his jacket. "He let me borrow this a few nights ago and I wanted to return it."

Margaret straightened and scratched her head thoughtfully. "Hmm, I dunno. I haven't seen him all day. You could dry Dragon Lake; he might be out fishing." Frey nodded and sighed. That was an awfully long walk for someone who could hardly move without pain, but it did feel good to be outside. "Alright, I guess I'll head down there. Thanks, Margaret." Frey left the restaurant before Margaret could say much else.

As Frey made her way down the street, she couldn't help but stop for a moment and watch as the day's airship sailed into the port. The massive turbines created such a gust that her hair blew into her face and her skirt billowed up around her, and for a moment she expected Arthur to climb off the ship with a stack of new books or perhaps a few pieces of foreign fruits for them to share. Tears welled up in Frey's eyes as the only people that climbed off the ship were some random workers and tourists and not her beloved. Before the tears could come, however, Frey turned on her heel and walked away, leaving the image of the airship behind her. She needed to focus on the task at hand, because dwelling on Arthur only made it worse.

It didn't seem like all that much time passed by the time Frey had nearly reached the lake. In fact, by the time she reached the clinic, she felt quite good. She clutched the jacket to her chest as she crossed the little bridge, and was relieved to see Dylas' figure in the distance. He was standing at the shore, fishing pole in hand, and as she neared she could see that he had a basket that was already half-full of fish at his side. She didn't need to say anything for him to notice her. His ears, which were still horse-like from his monster form, perked up as she approached and his eyes followed suit. Without a word, he nodded politely and went back to his fishing.

"Hello, Dylas."  
"H'lo."  
"I, uh... I realized I still had your jacket, so I figured I would bring it to you. Margaret told me you might be here."

Dylas nodded and gestured for Frey to set the jacket on the ground, and she obliged before looking out over the lake. Neither of them said anything for several minutes. It was refreshing, being with someone who didn't want to shove sympathies down her throat or tell her how to feel or how to act. She picked up a rock and skipped it across the lake. "Idiot," Dylas grumbled, glaring at her. "You'll scare the fish."

Frey put a hand to her mouth. "Oh, sorry," she said, but Dylas didn't say anything in return for a while longer.

"You fish?" he asked.  
"Me?"  
"Yeah, I mean... there's no one else here."

Frey ran a hand through her green hair, feeling stupid twice now in a row. "Yeah, I love to fish," she replied. "Well, I used to love to. It's been hard to make those movements since my accident a month ago."

Dylas scoffed, his ears flicking back slightly. "Don't be such a pity party. You can fish. Here; this rod I'm using casts really nice." He reeled in his line and handed her the fishing rod, keeping one hand on it while she cast her line to help ease the stress on her side before he dropped his hand to his side and sat on the grass. "See? Not so bad." When Frey looked up at him, she couldn't help but notice a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Frey couldn't help but smile ever so slightly either. Fishing had always been relaxing to her; there was something peaceful about it, something quiet and calming. The sounds of the lapping water on the lake shore was enough to make her want to lay down and take a nap right here, under the warm spring sun. After a moment she sat down next to Dylas, which proved to be a somewhat arduous task given her current state, but after all that walking it was quite a relief to sit. Dylas pulled idly at some blades of grass, then picked up a flat stone and skipped it across the lake.

"Hey!" Frey exclaimed in protest, to which Dylas smirked. "Payback."


End file.
